I'm Sorry...
Apr. 28th, 2004 03:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
greenstorm...this isn't going to be a happy post.
It shouldn't really be posted to livejournal, you see. It should be talked over with someone who's known me for years, who has seen the dynamics of my life change, who wouldn't need to have it explained. There is no one like that in my life, though.
It needs to come out, though. I need to write or say, somewhere, about how the memories crowd me. I took the bus to work and back today. It went along point grey road, cornwall, all those places, past all those little tiny parks along Kits beach. We walked along there one summer, I don't know which. I was housesitting for his dad, and we just went out walking. We followed the water down along the shore until the concrete cliffs loomed up above us, and we climbed the stairs and wandered through parks.
It wasn't just us, that day, but I don't know who else was there.
I didn't know I had this many memories in me. I haven't usually remembered the past. Maybe I just remember the good bits.
I remember the first time I saw him. I remember going down through the woods to his mom's house after school before catching the train in to Vancouver to see him. I remember sitting in the art room after school making something while we argued, and I broke the sculpture because it was taking up the feeling of the argument -- I broke this too. That is the strongest regret possible.
I remember all sorts of firsts that we had together -- completely irreplacable, both the firsts themselves and that intimacy and trust that happens when no one has yet hurt you or rejected you. I remember him staying up late to finish papers for school. I remember lying in front of the fireplace with him and going to sleep in that warm glow, and I remember running up the hill, late, that next morning. I remember holding his hand. I remember the first night, when he told me, "I love you," first. I remember the first time he went away for long, to France for a whole ten days, and how hard that was for me. I remember giving him my necklace, which I will never take back.
I remember waking up with him a million times. I remember the way he used to look, we both must have been very young. I remember teasing him about his first chest hairs, and I remember the old sweater he was wearing when I first saw him -- it's in our closet now.
All that, the whole thing, is so precious to me. I am so frightened that it's all there will ever be. I am so afraid.
Sometimes I feel guilty, or defeated, for not making it work. My willpower so seldom fails me when I really want something. This feels like some kind of betrayal by the world in general. How could it be this way?
Sometimes, though, I just feel sad. There isn't always room for the rest of that. I'm just sad, and I miss my hopes and dreams so terribly.
It's terrible to think that I still don't know what he meant, him personally, when he said I love you. It's terrible to think that I don't know the person he's become, and that maybe I never will.
Still, it is only a maybe. It's a change, yes, but we have not yet decided to call it exactly an end.
The boat is a comforting place to be right now -- it's overlaid with so many memories of things I did alone that I don't worry so much. I remember biking in the mornings there, alone, and washing the boat in the sunshine. There's an EA building close by now, lots of programmers to watch on their lunch break if I should feel so inclined. The water rocks soothingly. There's seawall to walk along.
I can do this alone, and I would rather do it alone than not do it at all, now. I can thank him for that determination, oddly. Still, I would rather be together.
It shouldn't really be posted to livejournal, you see. It should be talked over with someone who's known me for years, who has seen the dynamics of my life change, who wouldn't need to have it explained. There is no one like that in my life, though.
It needs to come out, though. I need to write or say, somewhere, about how the memories crowd me. I took the bus to work and back today. It went along point grey road, cornwall, all those places, past all those little tiny parks along Kits beach. We walked along there one summer, I don't know which. I was housesitting for his dad, and we just went out walking. We followed the water down along the shore until the concrete cliffs loomed up above us, and we climbed the stairs and wandered through parks.
It wasn't just us, that day, but I don't know who else was there.
I didn't know I had this many memories in me. I haven't usually remembered the past. Maybe I just remember the good bits.
I remember the first time I saw him. I remember going down through the woods to his mom's house after school before catching the train in to Vancouver to see him. I remember sitting in the art room after school making something while we argued, and I broke the sculpture because it was taking up the feeling of the argument -- I broke this too. That is the strongest regret possible.
I remember all sorts of firsts that we had together -- completely irreplacable, both the firsts themselves and that intimacy and trust that happens when no one has yet hurt you or rejected you. I remember him staying up late to finish papers for school. I remember lying in front of the fireplace with him and going to sleep in that warm glow, and I remember running up the hill, late, that next morning. I remember holding his hand. I remember the first night, when he told me, "I love you," first. I remember the first time he went away for long, to France for a whole ten days, and how hard that was for me. I remember giving him my necklace, which I will never take back.
I remember waking up with him a million times. I remember the way he used to look, we both must have been very young. I remember teasing him about his first chest hairs, and I remember the old sweater he was wearing when I first saw him -- it's in our closet now.
All that, the whole thing, is so precious to me. I am so frightened that it's all there will ever be. I am so afraid.
Sometimes I feel guilty, or defeated, for not making it work. My willpower so seldom fails me when I really want something. This feels like some kind of betrayal by the world in general. How could it be this way?
Sometimes, though, I just feel sad. There isn't always room for the rest of that. I'm just sad, and I miss my hopes and dreams so terribly.
It's terrible to think that I still don't know what he meant, him personally, when he said I love you. It's terrible to think that I don't know the person he's become, and that maybe I never will.
Still, it is only a maybe. It's a change, yes, but we have not yet decided to call it exactly an end.
The boat is a comforting place to be right now -- it's overlaid with so many memories of things I did alone that I don't worry so much. I remember biking in the mornings there, alone, and washing the boat in the sunshine. There's an EA building close by now, lots of programmers to watch on their lunch break if I should feel so inclined. The water rocks soothingly. There's seawall to walk along.
I can do this alone, and I would rather do it alone than not do it at all, now. I can thank him for that determination, oddly. Still, I would rather be together.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-04-28 05:02 pm (UTC)I'm glad I got to share some of that which is so precious to you; it is to me, too, now as then.
In any case... consider yourself hugged, from afar. Again. ;)
no subject
Date: 2004-04-28 06:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-28 06:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-28 06:50 pm (UTC)